The academy bell chimed across the crystalline halls of Magia Elemental Academy, its toll sharp and regal—an echo of routine in a world anything but ordinary.
Students shuffled into class, most still groggy, some stifling yawns, others murmuring half-heartedly about last night's prana readings.
Prana. Unlike mana—the elemental energy mastered by most—Prana was something else entirely.
A force far older. Far purer.
It wasn't conjured. It wasn't borrowed. It was lived.
The textbooks said it plainly: Prana is one's life force itself.
And though all beings of the Grand Continuum possess it, none could wield it freely. Not without consequence.
It slips through fingers like smoke, ungraspable in its entirety. At best, they learned to channel fragments of it—used for rituals, summoning, or moments of desperate clarity.
But that rule did not apply to Rai.
Not now. Not ever.
Rai and his usual chaos-bringing crew—Rose, Gale, Baruss, and Baruss's ever-loyal trio of wannabe goons—strolled lazily down the main hallway. A few muttered complaints echoed among them.
"Is it just me, or does anyone else feel... weirdly tired lately?" Baruss mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
"Like I fought a nightmare beast in my sleep and lost," one of the lackeys added.
Gale narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember something half-forgotten.
"Anyone else feel like we've missed something? I had the strangest dream... or maybe it wasn't?" he muttered, voice unusually low.
Rai stretched his arms overhead with a loud yawn, completely unbothered.
"Maybe you just ate too many fried shadow-crabs again. You know what they say—'dreams with tentacles mean indigestion.'"
He chuckled to himself.
As they reached their homeroom, Rai stepped through the doorway—
—and froze.
A soft whisper drifted to his ears, delicate and cold, like wind brushing over ancient stone.
"...My king. Remember..."
Rai blinked, confused. He spun around, his gaze darting to every corner of the hall.
"Wait—who said that?"
Then, true to Rai fashion, he did the least logical thing imaginable.
He crouched to the ground, lifted Gale's hair, peered behind a locker, and—accidentally—flipped Rose's skirt while still mid-search.
SLAP!
Rai went flying across the room, crashing into a potted mana-fern.
Rose's face was burning. "Pervert!"
Baruss groaned and walked over, hauling Rai up by the back of his collar.
"What the hell is wrong with you, man?"
Rai, still dazed and holding a leaf like it was evidence, stammered,
"I—I heard something. A voice. It was familiar. You didn't hear it?"
His eyes scanned the ceiling like answers were written in the rafters.
The group exchanged glances. For a moment, even Baruss looked unnerved.
But Gale spoke up, ever the rational one—if a bit tired himself.
"You're just hallucinating. Probably from sleep deprivation."
He gave a half-hearted shrug.
"I've been getting visions too. Maybe... we both just had a rough night."
He gently pulled Rai by the sleeve toward their seats, muttering under his breath.
Rose, still beet-red, turned sharply away and hissed, "Idiot...", though her eyes flicked to Rai just a moment longer than usual.
As everyone settled in, the light in the classroom flickered once—almost imperceptibly.
No one noticed.
Except Rai.
The students are gathered in their usual magical ecology lesson. Professor Kromus stands at the front, lecturing with his usual sharp yet disinterested tone.
"Today we'll be discussing proper binding etiquette for Tier-2 Summoned Beasts. Contrary to popular belief, they're not pets… they're partners. Disrespect one, and you might find your limbs… temporarily misplaced."
His eyes flick briefly to Rai as he says this.
However, as the class continues, there's a strange weight in the air. Kromus pauses mid-sentence, his eyes locked on a corner of the classroom, where the light flickers unnaturally. A shadow pulses against the wall—too dark, too alive.
He stares at it.
It stares back.
For just a second, something blinks within the darkness.
A student near the front hesitantly raises her hand.
"Professor? Are you alright?"
Kromus snaps back, blinking, his voice icy once more.
"Tch. Pay attention instead of worrying about my health. Shadows are only dangerous when you ignore them."
(He says it like a joke—but no one laughs.)
Gale glances at Rai with a raised brow. Rose grips her sleeve. Even Baruss mutters, "Okay that was... weird, right?"
Cut to: Headmaster's Chambers – High Tower
Pragaya sits behind his darkwood desk, hands steepled as if in prayer. The tall windows behind him are lined with enchantments, but outside, the sky feels... still. Too still.
Across from him stands Leviticus, dressed in ceremonial robes, his usual calm demeanor tainted by a rare edge of tension.
"Is it what I think it is… Father?"
Leviticus's voice wavers, a mixture of fear and reverence.
Pragaya doesn't look up immediately. When he does, his golden eyes are heavy.
"I'm afraid so, son. But this time… it's happening faster. Too fast. The signs are skipping their rhythm. The whispering veil is fraying."
His fingers tighten slightly.
Leviticus steps toward the enchanted window, peering down over the academy grounds—students laughing below, utterly unaware.
"Then the Circle of Veils will be here soon."
Pragaya doesn't answer. Just watches his son silently.
His thoughts are elsewhere. His silence... louder than any alarm.
The school bell rings, signaling the start of the lunch break. Students shuffle out of their classrooms, chattering and stretching. Rai and the usual group—Rose, Gale, Baruss, and his trio of lackeys—make their way through the garden path toward the cafeteria.
As they round a corner, a crowd has gathered in front of a large statue—the ancient sculpture of General Calithros the Flameborne, a legendary war hero of the Fire Clan known for holding back a Void incursion centuries ago.
But something's wrong.
The statue is split cleanly down the middle—not cracked by age or weather, but fractured as if by precise force. The break is too clean, too intentional.
Inside the exposed stone, faintly glowing glyphs shimmer. They pulse in a rhythmic hum, not in the recognizable Fire Script but in a strange, angular language that twists the eye just trying to read it. It feels... wrong. Ancient. Forbidden.
Baruss narrows his eyes.
"That's not elemental... That's written in a language banned by the Inquisition," he murmurs, his voice low with unease.
Students around them whisper nervously, others just stare. Before anyone can investigate further, two faculty members rush in, their eyes wide with urgency.
They immediately conjure veils of stone, sealing the statue's core with thick slabs that grind into place with a harsh finality. One of them turns and claps his hands loudly:
"Clear out, all of you. This section of the garden is off-limits until further notice."
The students begin to shuffle away reluctantly. Rose pulls at Rai's sleeve unwillingly with an annoyed look in her face "let's move idiot", she said in her usual prideful manner, but with an undercurrent of affection.
But Rai lingers, still staring at the faint traces of glyphs before the stone fully covers them. Something tugs at his chest—a memory, a feeling. He doesn't know why… but he's seen these symbols before.
Rai speaks up, his tone unusually serious:
"Baruss… why would they ban a language? That's like erasing an entire culture's voice."
Baruss pauses. He can feel the weight behind Rai's words, but even he doesn't have an answer. He simply shakes his head, uncertain.
"No one really knows. The Inquisition erased a lot of history during the Era of Reclamation. What little survived isn't exactly bedtime reading."
The others move on toward the cafeteria. Rai remains frozen, eyes locked on the sealed stone, still trying to remember.
The glyphs… they remind him of something. That chamber. That book. The Book of Indra.
But it's a hazy memory, buried deep.
Why can't he remember?
Why does his heart ache like something is calling out?
"Why does it feel like… I'm supposed to understand this?"
Suddenly, a soft voice whispers near his ear:
"What are you up to, Rai~?"
He nearly jumps out of his skin.
Rai yelps, flailing like a terrified cat. Arietta, the whimsical enigma of Level 1 class, stands behind him with her trademark mischievous smile.
Her opalescent eyes shimmer playfully, colors shifting like a living prism. Her pale gold hair, half-tied with flickering light-charms, dances in the breeze. A constellation-patterned coat sways with her as she tilts her head, boots softly glowing as she takes a step closer.
"You looked like you were about to fall into a memory pit or something," she teases, voice light and lilting.
Rai stammers, still recovering:
"W-Would you not sneak up on people like that?!"
Arietta giggles, completely unfazed.
"Where's the fun in that?"
She glances at the sealed statue, then back at him—her eyes briefly narrowing with the smallest flicker of concern.
But she says nothing more.
Then later that night the stars outside the Magia Elemental Academy pulsed like ancient runes in the sky — watchful, distant, and uncaring.
Inside the academy's grand library, silence reigned.
Sprawled like a coiled serpent, the Library Tower was a vast labyrinth of arcane lore and forgotten truths. Its lower tiers welcomed eager minds; the upper levels, however, were sealed tight — cloaked in veils of stone and rings of mana meant to deter even the most foolishly curious.
Or at least, most of them.
Gale moved like a shadow between shadows, a leather-bound satchel slung over one shoulder and a half-smirk on his face.
"One quick alchemy journal," he muttered to himself, clutching the small trinket he'd borrowed—a faculty sigil ring capable of bypassing low-level enchantments. "Then maybe some sleep. Or not."
This wasn't his first midnight venture. The third level had become a familiar haunt — dusty, unguarded, and brimming with the kind of books the academy didn't exactly encourage.
But tonight felt different.
The air crackled with something unsaid.
As Gale reached the landing, he stopped dead in his tracks.
The fourth-floor seal — the one woven from golden strands of pure prana — was gone.
Not broken.
Burned.
The archway, once buzzing with protective energy, stood yawning wide. The sigil that should have repelled intruders had been charred into a black smear across the stone floor, as if some ancient flame had unwritten it from existence.
"…What the hell?" Gale whispered.
He stepped forward. The air shifted, colder than winter, thick with something not meant to be breathed. The floorboards groaned like they remembered every footfall that had ever trespassed here.
Books lay strewn across the shelves and floor, scattered like survivors after a battle. Many bore strange bindings — cracked leather, chains, even what looked like petrified bark. Their titles shimmered faintly in the low light.
The Seven Lies of the First FlameUnwritten Eyes: The Lost BloodlinesOn the Veil Between
Gale's breath caught.
These weren't just old. They were forbidden. The kind of texts buried by decree, not time.
Compelled, he reached out toward the nearest one.
His fingers grazed its cover—
It turned to ash.
No heat. No flash. Just… dust.
And then—
a voice.
Low. Cold. Ancient.
"You're not supposed to see this yet."
It didn't come from behind him.
It came from everywhere.
He spun, heart pounding, but found only shadows — deep and twisted in ways that didn't follow the laws of firelight.
In the reflection of a cracked mirror to his right, Gale caught a glimpse of his face—
—only it wasn't his.
His eyes stared back with two pupils in each socket, glowing like molten prana split across realities.
Gale stumbled back, tripping over a fallen tome, and bolted.
He didn't stop until he was back in his dorm, sweating, gasping, and still seeing those eyes behind his own.
He didn't tell Rai.
Or Baruss.
But that whisper followed him into sleep…
And in the dark corners of his dreams, the fourth floor never closed.
Back within the eerie stillness of the library, a figure materialized from the shadows—his presence as silent and elusive as the darkness itself. He stepped forward, his form obscured by a cloak that seemed to absorb the surrounding light, making him indistinguishable from the night.
"Who was that, my king?" he asked in a low, gravelly voice, his eyes narrowed with intrigue. "Why was he able to perceive this place? This chamber is meant only for the King of Gods."
A cold, almost imperceptible chuckle echoed from the deeper shadows. A figure, draped in regal darkness, emerged slowly. One of the five kings of the Lost Legion. His eyes gleamed with ancient, unreadable wisdom.
The loyal subject tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued but not daring to press further.
"Is that so?" he murmured, then, with a swift movement, they both vanished back into the shadows—vanishing as silently as they had appeared, leaving nothing but a lingering sense of dread in the air.
The next day, the bustling cafeteria hummed with chatter, the air thick with the scent of sizzling meat and fresh bread. Rai, as usual, was lost in his own world, stuffing his face with a piece of roasted meat, surrounded by Gale and Baruss. They exchanged half-hearted jokes, their laughter mingling with the noise of the other students.
On the opposite side of the cafeteria, Rose and Arietta were having their own conversation, though Rose couldn't help but glance over at Rai, shaking her head at his usual antics.
But then, a sudden shift. Aromas Verdantveil, the gentle giant known for his calm and placid demeanor, stood at the entrance of the cafeteria. His towering figure loomed over the students, but something was different. His eyes, usually soft and kind, were wild—pupils dilated, a faint tremor in his hands.
Rai didn't notice him immediately, too engrossed in his meal. But the air in the room seemed to thicken. Aromas moved, not with his usual slow grace, but with unnatural speed. Before anyone could react, he grabbed Rai by the collar, yanking him out of his seat so roughly that the plate of food went flying across the table.
The room fell into stunned silence. Rai sputtered, eyes wide, his food splattering across the floor. Aromas's voice boomed, strange and full of strange conviction. "They chained the truth beneath the ash. But ash remembers fire."
The words hit the crowd like a thunderclap.
Aromas's hands shook violently, his grip loosening on Rai's collar as he collapsed to the floor, eyes rolling back into his head.
The cafeteria erupted into a flurry of voices, students scrambling to get out of the way. Faculty members rushed in, their faces grim, their mana flaring as they lifted Aromas's limp body from the ground. They muttered to each other, a phrase that seemed rehearsed: "mana exhaustion seizure."
But Rai stood frozen, heart pounding. He hadn't just seen Aromas's collapse. He had seen something else. The air around Aromas had rippled, like a memory struggling to break free. It wasn't a seizure. It was as if something had tried to escape him, something buried deep within the giant's mind, and it had wanted to reach Rai.
The faculty hastily carried Aromas out, leaving a trail of whispered rumors in their wake. The cafeteria slowly returned to its buzz, but Rai couldn't shake the image of the strange disturbance. What had that been? Why had it felt so familiar?
Later, Rai found himself walking to the infirmary, the unsettling feeling still gnawing at him. Aromas was lying unconscious on a cot, his face pale but peaceful, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. He looked like the same gentle giant who had always been so kind.
But there was no trace of the moment when his words had rattled the entire room. Aromas woke briefly, blinking in confusion, before muttering something about having lost time. When Rai asked him about the strange words, Aromas's expression was blank. "I… I don't remember."
Just like that, the memory was gone—swallowed by whatever force had gripped him moments before. Rai stood there, unsure of what to think.
The truth beneath the ash. Ash remembers fire. "What did he mean by that?" Rai thought, still haunted by the vision of rippling air. Was it a message? And if so, from who?
Night – Rai's Dorm Room
The dorm was silent, save for the soft, rhythmic snoring coming from the bunk below. Gale lay wrapped like a burrito in his blanket cocoon, entirely oblivious. Moonlight spilled through the high arched window, painting silver lines across the room's stone floor.
Rai lay on the top bunk, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
The wind outside whispered through the trees — soft, unsettled.
His eyes grew heavy.
His thoughts faded...
[Dream Realm]
Silence.
The kind that screams.
Ash drifted through the air, fine as dust, weightless as memory. A cracked sky loomed overhead—colorless, drained of life. The horizon bled into itself, a world forgotten by time.
Rai stood barefoot in the middle of a vast, ruined hall. Pillars once proud now crumbled into shadows. The ground beneath him was scorched, stone blackened by fire that no longer burned.
Time twisted here — stretching, collapsing, folding inward like pages in a book too worn to close.
He moved forward slowly, the ash coating his feet like snow. With every step, the weight in his chest grew heavier, like a memory trying to crawl out of his lungs.
At the far end of the hall stood a throne.
Or what was left of it.
Shattered down the middle. The back half missing, the seat cracked, its foundation swallowed by a yawning abyss.
Five armored figures knelt before it. Heads bowed. Silent. Reverent.
Their armor glinted dimly beneath the gray sky — ancient regalia etched with unfamiliar runes, regal and haunting. Rai squinted, trying to see their faces...
But he couldn't.
Instead, a child appeared before the throne.
He stood alone — impossibly still. His eyes blazed with golden-white light, a divine shine that gave no warmth. Only pressure. The kind that bends reality and buckles bone.
The child lifted a hand.
And the world trembled.
Rai stumbled back, chest tightening, lungs screaming for air that wasn't there.
The child turned. Slowly. Unnaturally.
And looked directly at him.
"You have forgotten," the child said, his voice a harmony of youth and eternity.
"But we have not."
Ash swallowed everything.
[Morning – Rai's Dormitory]
Rai bolted upright, gasping.
Moonlight had faded — replaced by the pale fingers of dawn. His breath came in ragged bursts. Sweat traced lines down his face.
His chest was no longer heavy. But his heart still raced, pounding like war drums in his ears.
"Just a dream," he muttered to himself. "Just… a weird dream."
A groggy voice mumbled from below.
"If you're gonna have night terrors, can you at least scream quieter?"
"S-sorry," Rai replied, his voice hollow.
He looked down at his hands.
They felt foreign.
The light outside brightened slowly — morning chasing away the ghosts.
And yet...
Ash clung to the back of his throat.
Then the scene shifts. Only those privy to the unseen tensions gathering at the Academy were present in the headmaster's chambers.
Headmaster Pragaya stood by the hearth, shadows flickering over his silver eyes. Beside him stood Leviticus—stern, arms crossed—while Lara leaned casually on a tall chair, her aura buzzing faintly with suppressed tension. And then, there were two others—cloaked in dense shadow, faces obscured, presence ancient.
One of the cloaked figures broke the silence, voice sharp and resentful.
"I told you—I want nothing more to do with this. So why have you summoned me?"
Pragaya didn't flinch. His voice, though measured, carried weight.
"Because this isn't like before. Things are unraveling too quickly. The Lost Legion has never appeared this soon. And now—they're acting on their own. Trying to force him to remember."
The second cloaked figure, a woman whose voice slithered through the air like wind through silk, spoke next.
"Can you not control them? They're not mindless beasts, Pragaya."
Lara scoffed, stepping forward, her emerald eyes sparking with irritation.
"You must be a fool if you think they'll listen to anyone but him."
For a moment, the energy between the two cloaked figures crackled—like old, bitter siblings whose wounds had never healed.
Leviticus stepped into the growing tension, voice steady, but underscored with urgency.
"We need to act. Tomorrow, the Circle of Veils sends their representative for a routine visit. He's already heard rumors—massive surges in elemental flux. If he senses what's really going on..."
He left the sentence unfinished, but the room felt colder.
Silence fell. They all knew what was at stake. The Circle of Veils didn't tolerate anomalies. And Rai... was a living contradiction.
One by one, their eyes met—each filled with unspoken dread.
For once, even those who lived in shadows had no answers.